My First Orgy

Orgies are like orgasms — if you think you might have had one, you probably didn't. That said, I'm not sure if I've ever been in an orgy. 

The first time I came close, I was sharing a hotel room with some friends, and we had spent a night out drinking and dancing together. The group including a woman I was completely in love with and her girlfriend. I stumbled back to the hotel late, with the two girls plus another girl I’d met on the dance floor. We flopped into our respective beds, my hopeless love started kissing her girlfriend while my friend started giving me a blowjob. 

I looked from her to the other bed. I wanted desperately to join the serpentine knot of ecstasy that was in the process of winding itself up. If I tried, there was a sporting chance of rejection and, possibly, being thrown out of the room. I’ve found that, contrary to the what you might intuit from porn, two women having sex generally look unkindly on interruptions from horny, moon-eyed men. 

But then suddenly my beloved sprang up, now beautifully pale and completely naked in the dim hotel light. I thought my moment had come, that she had sensed my psychic yearning. Instead of sweeping me into her needful arms she ran out the door and reappeared a minute later with one of our drinking buddies from down the hall, his muscular, slightly flabby frame offset by floppy dreadlocks. 

All my hope had slipped away. I was marooned on my bed. My companion had now pushed me onto my back and was bouncing up and down on top of me. As she bounced we gradually slid down the edge of the bed like a typewriter head reaching the end of the line. Every few minutes we'd have to stop and re-center ourselves, before beginning to bounce back to the edge.

I took comfort in hearing my beloved girlfriend cry, "No! You're not putting it in!" to her new companion. If I didn't get to be with them, at least the guy with them was only going to be a prop with chest hair.

We stopped when it was getting light. I got up, naked and irritated. I wanted to make some kind of a show of dissatisfaction so I opened the hotel room window and peed down onto a pile of dumpsters in a back alley. 

Over breakfast the next morning, my head reeling from booze and my fingers still shaking, I told my friend I was sorry I was such a lousy lay for her. She said she was sorry, too. — Michael Thomsen

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